


hell is so cold without you

by arnold_layne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, PWP with feelings, Sibling Incest, Sibling on sibling violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnold_layne/pseuds/arnold_layne
Summary: “You’re going down a dangerous road, you know that? Letting this demon chick hang out with you? Oh, you know it, you absolutely do. Or you wouldn’t hide it from me!” Dean wrestled his wrist out of Sam’s grip and grabbed his collar. “Tell me, Sammy, what are you two doing in the dark?”Then the world turned upside down in front of Sam’s eyes and his head hit the floor. Dean settled on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor above Sam’s head.“Without me,” he finished, and the corners of his lips curved just a little with a faint hint of a smile. “I gotta admit, Sammy,” Dean continued, bending down to Sam’s face so close he could smell a whiff of Dean’s cologne. “As fucked up as the shit you pulled was, it was also hot as fuck.”Alternative take on 4x04, after Dean learns Sam’s been using his powers.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	hell is so cold without you

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom, so this work is still kind of character study for me. Please don't clown about incest stuff, you've been warned in the tags.

Metallic taste filled Sam’s mouth as pain pierced through his lip. Dean must have broken it with his fist. He always threw heavy punches, especially when angry. Though Sam usually watched him do it from the sidelines and didn’t experience it himself.

Well, times have changed.

Sam wiped the blood off and looked up at Dean. His eyebrows were creased, his lips pursed tightly – his face looked like an angry theater mask that slightly resembled his features. Even the green in his eyes had faded, reduced to the color of rotting leaves by the blinding anger.

“You satisfied?” Sam asked, knowing the answer would be “no” even before Dean opened his mouth.

There was one more punch instead, one more spike of pain in the mouth. Hair fell on Sam’s face, covering his eyes, hiding Dean from his view for a second or two. Sam used the moment to quickly check his teeth with his tongue. All intact, thank god.

Then he stood up, brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at Dean. Dean looked back at him and at the same time through him, as though he saw someone else in place of Sam.

“I guess not,” Sam said as casually as he could, like they really were carrying out a conversation. They were, in a way. It wasn’t, of course, how brothers with a healthy sibling relationship should express their displeasure with each other, but they never really had a healthy relationship.

Dean didn’t reply. Instead he turned away from Sam and grabbed his bag again, clearly intending to leave. No, no, it wasn’t supposed to go like that-

“Listen, Dean, I said I’m sorry-“ Sam began, only to be met with yet another punch, this time to the stomach, and such a strong one he forgot how to breathe. It drove him to his knees and knocked the air out of his lungs, and a few seconds passed before Sam could clearly see again.

The first thing he saw when colorful circles stopped dancing in front of his eyes, was two legs wrapped in denim approaching him.

“Get up!” Dean hissed. Sam raised his gaze, trying to catch Dean’s eyes. Dean was never the expressive type, but his eyes gave him away every time – this time as well. There was rage, of course, but also hurt, and jealousy, and a little bit of fear. And… oh, what was that?

Sam wiped his lips again, looked at a red smear on his palm and raised an eyebrow.

“And what if I don’t?”

Dean blinked in confusion, but only for a second or two.

“Then you are a fucking coward,” he spat out. “What, you thought since your brother was in Hell you could do whatever you want? Run off with your demon bitch, develop your demonic abilities all you want? Well, not on my fucking watch. Get up and answer for your actions!”

He stepped up towards Sam, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tried to pull him up. Which was a stupid idea, the collar of an old shirt wasn’t strong enough to hold Sam’s entire weight. He didn’t get to see it tear, though - Sam grasped Dean’s jacket and yanked him down onto the floor.

“You motherfu-” Dean dropped on his knees heavily, one hand gripping one of Sam’s wrists, the other trying to throw a punch. He did manage to deliver one, though not very strong, but something warm still started dripping down Sam’s nose, painting the floor red.

But the punch threw Dean off balance, and Sam managed to push him away with enough force for Dean to fall on his back onto the floor. He tried to kick Sam, but Sam was quicker. He climbed on top of Dean and straddled him, covered his own face with an elbow to avoid yet another punch and caught Dean’s right arm as he was raising it to grab Sam’s jacket.

“Hey, Dean-“ Sam murmured, stopping to catch his breath. Trying to not hurt Dean the whole time was harder than he expected, but he didn’t want to destroy whatever remains of trust Dean still had towards him. “Hey, Dean.”

“What?” Dean spat out. He might have wanted to put as much hate into his voice as possible, and he almost managed. Anyone would have been fooled. Anyone but Sam.

“Can you just- just calm down?” He clutched the hand around Dean’s wrist tighter. Not because he was afraid Dean would try to get it free – no, he just wanted to feel the connection, skin to skin, to ensure his brother was still his brother rather than a hateful, spiteful stranger he appeared to be.

“No, I can’t calm down, Sam!” Dean’s hips buckled. He raised his head and looked Sam in the eyes. “You’re going down a dangerous road, you know that? Letting this demon chick hang out with you? Oh, you know it, you absolutely do. Or you wouldn’t hide it from me!” Dean wrestled his wrist out of Sam’s grip and grabbed his collar. “Tell me, Sammy, what are you two doing in the dark?”

Then the world turned upside down in front of Sam’s eyes and his head hit the floor, sending a spike of pain through his skull. When it subdued and Sam could clearly see again, Dean was already on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor above Sam’s head.

“Without me,” he finished, and the corners of his lips curved just a little with a faint hint of a smile, but that was enough for Sam.

Oh, Sam narrowed his eyes and exhaled loudly, finally they were getting to some real action.

“I gotta admit, Sammy,” Dean continued, bending down to Sam’s face so close he could smell a whiff of Dean’s cologne. “As fucked up as the shit you pulled was, it was also hot as fuck.”

Sam’s gaze ventured down Dean’s body. Huh, Dean wasn’t lying, that was for sure.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, following Sam’s gaze. Then he grabbed Sam’s hand and put it on his crotch. “Feel that. The way you were standing there… your eyes closed… you seemed almost inspired. Like an artist painting a picture. And then you sent that demon right back to Hell, where he belongs. With only a wave of a hand.” He sighed dreamily. “Sexy.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s dick, which was getting hard under the fabric of his jeans, and squeezed it. Dean groaned.

“But when I saw that bitch near you…” he continued. His grasp on Sam’s other wrist tightened. “So close to you, so comfortable with you… Damn, if it wasn’t for you, she would be burning in Hell now.”

“Dean, Ruby helps me develop my abilities,” Sam reminded. Dean’s heavy gaze was unsettling but at the same time strangely satisfying. “That’s it.”

“Oh, really?” Dean leaned forward, so close to Sam’s face Sam could feel his warm breath on his skin. “That’s all? Are you sure?”

Sam looked him in the eyes, the green in them darkened with desire, and then smiled wide. “What do you think?”

Yes, that was a right thing to say. Maybe not very sensible, but right, because Dean’s eyebrows creased and his face stiffened, like it always did when he was jealous. And oh, how Sam loved making him jealous. His hand freed Sam’s wrist but slithered into his hair instead and clasped a good chunk of it, pulling his head up slightly to get it closer to Dean’s face.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that you and that bitch fucked while I was away. That she rode you and screamed your name and pulled your hair. That you came right inside of her without a condom and grabbed her tits. Am I right?”

“Wow, you’re graphic,” Sam laughed but ended abruptly when Dean leaned forward suddenly and pressed his lips against Sam’s. Not gently, like he did with the morning and goodnight kisses; not passionately, like he did after a long night of hunting, with them covered in blood and sweat. No, it was hungry, rough, almost animal-like.

And damn, did Sam like it.

He ran his fingers through short soft hair on the back of Dean’s head, and then pulled at it so that Dean made an indignant sound and bit Sam’s lip in revenge. The bite stung his already injured lip, but Sam didn’t even notice any pain. He was busy pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, exploring all its corners, thoroughly, greedily, as though trying to become one with Dean. Dean groaned into his mouth as Sam’s hand unzipped Dean’s jeans and freed his cock, stroking it slowly. The loveliest sound Sam had ever heard, and getting better every damn time.

Dean broke the kiss, but only to get rid of his t-shirt. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean swiftly bent down to his face and shut him up with a kiss again. His fingers reached to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. Sam helped him, eager to get rid of his clothes as fast as he could. He wanted to feel Dean’s body against his, to revel in his warmth, to trace his fingers among the familiar lines of scars on his chest and back. He wanted Dean’s love so, so badly.

For a short time today Sam thought he had lost that blessing. He didn’t want to feel like that ever again.

Sam ran his fingers through Dean’s hair again, then cupped his face and deepened the kiss. They could barely breathe now, but who cared when there was so much wet warmth of each other’s mouth to explore, so much scent of each other to inhale, so much hot, sweaty skin to rub against?

Mid-kiss, the corners of Dean’s mouth twisted into a smile.

“Man, you’re really going for it today. Does all that demon stuff make you hornier? Lovely news.”

Sam pushed him in the chest jokingly. “Not that I used to be a prude, you know.”

“Oh, you surely weren’t,” Dean nodded, his eyes glinting in the poor lightning of the motel room. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

“The only improvement you’ll get if you keep talking like that is at your jacking off skills.” Sam lied – he absolutely wasn’t gonna go anywhere – but Dean didn’t need to know that.

But Dean, of course, knew that. He smiled and brushed his lips against Sam’s cheek, got up and began unzipping his jeans. He offered Sam a hand to get up, and he absolutely didn’t have to. Sam, of course, took it.

He slid out of his shirt and threw it onto the floor. His jeans followed a second later. His back felt the soft coldness of fresh sheets on the bed. The next second, it was forgotten: Dean straddled him and ran his hands along Sam’s torso. He was smiling slyly.

“Hey, Sam. What would you do to me if I was a demon?”

Sam blinked. God, Dean had always been awful at dirty talk.

“I’d exorcise you,” he smiled, catching Dean’s hand wandering round his chest and grasping it tight. “In a heartbeat.”

“Wow, so little fantasy?” Dean laughed, but Sam could still feel the slyness behind the wrinkles around his eyes that always formed when he was smiling. “Give me something more interesting, Sammy.”

“Dean, I don’t fuck demons,” Sam tried to keep up the smile, suddenly as though washed over with cold water.

“Do you?” Dean raised his eyebrows, not a trace of a smile on his face anymore. It felt like the air around them had changed, Sam realized, as he was breathing in and out shallowly, like a fish out of water. “Sam, when I asked you about Ruby, I was being serious,” Dean said, and he sounded too serious to go on with an upcoming sex scene. “Did you- did you hook up?”

His hand slid into Sam’s hair again and gripped it tight, pulling slightly. As Sam was staring at Dean’s face, his cheekbones highlighted by the dim lights of the motel room, making his face look sharper, tougher than it actually was, he suddenly realized he was holding his breath. Dean could be scary, if he wanted. And he was, towering over Sam, one hand in his hair, the other pressing onto his chest.

“Did you?” Dean repeated. Sam looked at him, silent. He could easily say “no”, he really could. He lied to Dean easily about staying away from the demonic stuff. He could lie about this too. Easily. Easily… right?

“You did,” Dean concluded after a minute of silence. He released Sam’s hair and leaned back, clearly intending to get up.

For a second, Sam just lay there in disbelief. Was he really going to leave like that, just because of some bitch who Sam only fucked drunk off his ass? Sam never minded Dean’s bitches, then why the hell did Dean?

Dean stood up, his back turned to Sam. Sam looked at him helplessly. No, he couldn’t leave. Not right now. Not after he almost thought-

“Dean-“ he reached out and grasped his arm.

Next second, Dean’s hungry lips were on his, and Dean’s slick tongue was in his mouth, and Dean’s hands were pinning Sam’s wrists to the bed, and Dean’s body on top of his pressed him into the mattress, and all was well. All was right.

“She won’t get you,” Dean whispered, his hot breath warming Sam’s ear. “You’re mine, you hear it? Mine.” He kissed him hard, and Sam couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile. That was Dean, Dean as he knew him.

“Why you smiling?” Dean murmured, breaking the kiss for a second. Sam looked at him silently. He thought he had gotten used to having Dean back from Hell, but there were moments – rare moments – when he wouldn’t hear Dean’s voice for too long or wouldn’t lay his eyes on Dean’s face for a while and his stomach would sink, and he had to search for Dean with his eyes to make sure he was there, with him.

“Just looking forward to you fucking me hard,” Sam said and raised his head, finding Dean’s lips with his own again. He wasn’t even lying. Just didn’t tell him everything.

“What, more than fucking Ruby?” Dean turned his head away slightly, raising his eyebrows, but this time he wasn’t serious, at least not that deadly kind of serious he’d been barely two minutes ago.

Sam rolled his eyes. Well, Dean was always petty. “Dean. I was drunk and desperate. It was just a distraction. Now if you keep talking, I swear to God-“ he freed one of his hands – Dean didn’t try to hold it in place - slid it down Dean’s back and squeezed his butt. Dean gasped into his mouth.

“Well, if you want it so much,” he exhaled, “how can I refuse?”

And then Dean’s mouth was on Sam’s neck, sucking on it, leaving a bruise that surely would be noticeable above the shirt collar, and Sam had no issue with that. And Sam’s fingers probably clenched Dean’s shoulders too tightly, but Dean didn’t complain, not once.

And then Sam’s palm was wrapped around Dean’s cock, sliding up and down agonizingly slowly, drawing breathy moans out of Dean, moans mixed with “faster” and “Sammy, please”. And Sam couldn’t hold back a satisfied grin, he’s been practicing since he was sixteen, of course he knew what Dean liked best.

And then the hot tip of Dean’s cock was pushing inside him, at first carefully, they hadn’t had sex in ages, then more roughly, just how Sam liked it, and he could hardly recognize the sounds coming out of his mouth. Skin slapping against skin sounded like heavenly harps, and the needy moans were the flutes, and the broken gasps were the violins, and the messed up words were the cellos, and everything merged into a melody so beautiful that everything else retreated into the background. All that mattered was here and now, and no demons, or angels, or whatever the fuck else could disrupt it. Wouldn’t dare to.

It was over too soon. Dean collapsed on him, breathing heavily. Sam’s own chest was moving up and down, sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Whew.” Dean rolled off Sam and lay next to him, his hand resting on Sam’s chest. “That was-”

“Incredible? Yeah, I know,” Sam smiled, shooting him a quick look and immediately looking away, at the ceiling. He put his hand over Dean’s and pressed it down slightly. His heart was still beating fast underneath Dean’s hand.

Dean made a short laugh as he lay his head on the pillow right next to Sam’s, so close Sam could feel his breath on his ear. “Well, if you know that, there’s no need for me to tell you that-“

“No, that’s not how it works,” Sam interrupted Dean with a kiss on the mouth, slow and lazy, devoid of the initial lust but instead full of fondness, that kind of calm, relaxed fondness one could feel waking up in the morning next to their beloved. Dean dived into it readily, his other hand tangling in Sam’s hair, stroking his scalp. It felt so good, Sam almost started purring.

“What, one more round?” Dean asked when Sam interrupted the kiss.

“No,” Sam shook his head. How could he explain to him that even at that moment, with Dean in bed next to him, he was still afraid of losing him? That only touch, no matter which, helped him realize that Dean was there, with him, that it wasn’t a dream or an illusion? How could he tell Dean that after four months so lonely and so cold he still hadn’t warmed up to Dean’s presence, that Dean’s light and warmth hadn’t yet reached his very core? How could he tell him all that without sounding like an absolute idiot? “Just glad you’re here.”

“Huh,” Dean only said in return, turning his gaze to the ceiling but still stroking Sam’s hair with his calloused fingers.

“Even though sometimes you can be a complete jackass,” Sam added, rubbing his jaw where the bruise already began to form.

“Sorry about that,” Dean propped himself up on his elbow and ran his fingers gently over Sam’s swollen lip and the sensitive red spot on the skin of his jaw. Then he leaned in and carefully kissed the hurt places. “Better?”

Sam couldn’t keep a smile off his face. “Better.”

**Author's Note:**

> literature is not gonna forgive me my heavenly choir metaphor 😔
> 
> Come scream at me on my tumblr @arnold-layne :)


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